


Swords and Silk

by MudaMuda



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AsaKiku - Freeform, Homophobia, M/M, Nobility, Pirates, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:01:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MudaMuda/pseuds/MudaMuda
Summary: A pirate easily captures the pretty son of a Japanese nobleman. It’s getting him into bed that’s the real challenge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2017 Asakiku Secret Santa Event, for meet-the-mun-koneko. Happy Holidays!

 

_ South China Sea, 1750 _

 

It wasn’t until Arthur crushed his mouth against his captive’s soft lips that his intent was fully realized. He took the shocked silence, the open-mouthed gasp, as an opportunity to slip his tongue in after, deepening the kiss. 

His greediness was rewarded with a flustered cuff to the cheek, after which Kiku, the oldest son of the Honda clan, threw himself backward and scuttled along the cabin wall, eyes wide with horrified understanding.

“Look. Darling,” said Arthur in Dutch, as it was the only language they both understood. “You aren’t so naive that you didn’t know this was my intention?”

Kiku’s chest heaved indignantly. “What kind of man wants to bed another man?” he asked.

“This one.”

“Please accept a reward instead.”

Arthur rubbed his face where he’d been struck. “I intend to get a ransom payment for your return. But before then, I want to partake in a fine eastern beauty.”

And he grabbed him by the waist.

His captive thrust out his arms and assailed him with blows that hurt quite a lot. He was stronger than he looked. 

“I have a wife,” spat Kiku, thrashing and kicking.

“A pretty thing like you? I doubt it.”

“How dare you disrespect me.”

“I intend to do more than that,” said Arthur. 

Kiku snarled as Arthur took him by the hair and threw him in in the direction of the bed. Kiku stumbled, but continued fighting as Arthur wrestled him down, mussing his ivory silk sheets. The noble’s face was the same color as the bedding, and his skin just as soft when Arthur leant down to nip at his throat.

The trousers he wore were pleated and skirt-like, and tied at the hips. Arthur took a knife to the ties, and tore the trousers to his knees. He replaced his teeth with his knife at the noble’s throat while he pulled the  _ kimono _ up to his waist, revealing a loincloth. He slid the blade beneath the place at his right hip where the cloth was twisted the thinnest, and began to cut.

Kiku’s long hair, which had been neatly pinned up in a knot, was coming undone from thrashing his head to escape Arthur's hold on it. Loose black strands fanned out around his temples and the nape of his neck. 

Sometime in between this, Kiku managed to get a knee up, right into Arthur’s gut. While Arthur slumped to the ground in pain, Kiku broke loose and ran for the door, in nothing but his crumpled robe.

Stumbling out after him, with his arms crossed over his stomach, Arthur watched irritably as Kiku vaulted over the railing of the ship and landed in the ocean.

Arthur called to the bewildered deckhands to fish him out before he caught his death.

  
  


Kiku stood on the deck, sea water pooling around his feet. Wind whipped through his sodden hair, flinging it against his cheeks. Arthur laughed at him.

“That was your plan? To drown yourself?”

Kiku hissed, teeth chattering. The wind gusted again, tearing through his clothes, and he shivered violently. He looked at once determined and pathetic, rubbing his forearms for warmth; his wet robe molded to his trembling thighs.

Arthur stroked his cool cheek and promised, “Once you warm up, we’ll try again.”

Even the threat of freezing to death did not make Kiku hurry to the warm captain’s quarters. He had to be dragged, petulantly digging in his heels and holding up his fine, high bred nose.

Once back in the cabin, Arthur gave him a blanket and a cup of tea. Kiku kneeled on the floor and used the blanket to cover himself while he peeled off his robe. He didn’t touch the tea until Arthur took a sip of it in front of him.

“There’s nothing poisonous in it. Drink it,” said Arthur.

Kiku took the cup and held it. He was still shivering too much to drink without spilling down his front. 

Now that his sense was returning to him with his body heat, he looked to be preparing himself for his imminent task of receiving the manhood of a pirate. 

The teacup shook in his hands as he glared at Arthur, his dark eyes like coals heated by fire.

“You want to lay with all men,” said Kiku. 

“Oh, certainly not, love,” said Arthur. “I don't fuck indiscriminately. Aren't there women you would never touch?” 

Kiku scowled down at his tea.

“I like anyone pretty who comes my way. You suit me very well. Ordinarily, I would not be so kind to a captive.”

“ _ Kind,”  _ repeated Kiku scornfully. 

“You haven’t seen what I’ve done to my less attractive captives,” said Arthur. “You should be thanking me.”

Kiku scoffed.

“You said you’re married,” said Arthur. “Do the women in your country ordinarily fawn over a feminine man?”

Kiku ignored him. 

“It’s not an insult. I could never find fault with your appearance. Not with this fair skin, and slender figure…  not to mention your hair…”

Kiku moved back when he saw him reaching out, but Arthur had already caught a handful of his hair. He threaded the wet strands through his fingertips, letting them slip through like ink down a parchment.

“Don’t touch me,” said Kiku, batting his hand off. He took the first sip of his tea, and wrinkled his nose at the taste.

“I hate this. Take it away,” he said, holding it out. Arthur frowned.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s sweet.”

“There’s  _ sugar  _ in it _ , _ and it cost a fortune. Enjoy it, you spoiled brat.”

“I don’t want it,” said Kiku.

“Drink it,” said Arthur.

Kiku leveled his gaze with Arthur’s, and then, without ceremony, upended the contents of the teacup into Arthur’s lap.

Despite the audacity of the act, and the pain of the hot tea soaking into his trousers, Arthur was surprised that he wasn’t angry enough to take his captive by his slender neck and throttle him.

But he  _ was  _ growing impatient, watching Kiku dangle the handle of the cup between graceful fingers, letting the last drops of tea spill off the rim, before dropping the porcelain cup callously onto his tea-soaked lap. 

The icy-smooth aggression beneath Kiku’s refined mannerisms was proving irresistibly tempting, and his elegant anger was making Arthur burn hotter than ever. The imperative to fight back and retain his authority over Kiku was there, but was being challenged by another urge to let Kiku insult him a bit more. Just to have some intimate banter as a prelude to their intercourse. 

Arthur cleared his throat, and took charge of the situation again, taking a sort of glee in knowing Kiku would resist him tooth and nail.

“I’ll not sit here all night waiting for you to put out. Off with that cover,” said Arthur.

Kiku brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. He sighed heavily.

“Oh. I  _ see _ ,” said Arthur, with a smugness that made Kiku’s lip curl. “You still think you have a choice in this?”

“You say that as if you think there is a way I would prefer to go about this.”

“I don’t give a damn what you’d prefer. Spread your legs.”

“Do not insult me with empty threats.”

“What are you saying?”

Kiku’s eyes glinted with aggression. “Have you lost your nerve to fight, pirate?”

“I have no qualms about fighting you for what I want,” said Arthur, reaching out and toying with a piece of Kiku’s hair again. “But I think it would be more gratifying if I could seduce you to helplessly enjoy being fucked.”

Kiku slapped Arthur’s hand off. 

Irritably, he reached behind his head and gathered his hair in a fist, scooping wayward strands up from the nape of his neck. Reaching for a nearby string from his hakama that Arthur had cut, he used it to wrap his hair up into a tight knot that wouldn’t tempt Arthur.

“How pathetic that you captured me and can't even ravish me properly,” said Kiku, pulling the tie into a neat bow. “You call yourself a pirate...”

“It’s not that I couldn’t,” said Arthur. “I’ve been considering a different approach. If I ravish you, it won’t be as fun. I’ll only be taking, and you won't be doing as you're told.”

“I will not take orders from you.”

“I think you will. But not without the right persuasion. If verbal and physical threats don’t convince you, I have something else that might.”

“You’re wasting my time,” said Kiku.

“And my own as well. I was so eager to have my way with you, there was an easy way to threaten you I overlooked. I think you missed it too,” said Arthur, getting to his feet. 

“You’re talking nonsense.” 

“Wait here,” said Arthur.

He left the room, satisfied that Kiku would not dare to run away again, now that the crew was on high alert. He came back shortly, carrying the item with which he would persuade Kiku.

Kiku's eyes widened when he saw what he was holding.

The sword was one of several in a set found on Kiku’s ship, just before Arthur sunk it. All the swords were covered in finely decorated sheaths, with colorful handles and plaited cords. Undoubtedly expensive, and judging by Kiku’s worried expression, undoubtedly of significant personal value as well. Kiku watched closely, guardedly as Arthur examined the sword in his hands.

“I see you recognize this. Now, there are-- what I assume are-- names, and crests etched into the blades,” said Arthur, unsheathing it to show Kiku, who mostly looked disgusted that Arthur had his hands on his property. “The swords are a family heirloom. Why were you transporting this?”

“It’s none of your concern,” said Kiku.

“Well. Regardless. Once we reach port, I was planning to sell them. I think they’ll fetch a high price,” said Arthur. He idly turned the weapon over and over in his hands. “That is, unless you offer a bargain to change my mind. You understand, expensive things are easy to come by. But I think  _ you  _ have something truly rare to offer me.”

When Kiku remained stubbornly silent, Arthur resheathed the sword with a sharp clack of the hilt against the sheath, just to make Kiku flinch in anger at the irreverent treatment of the weapon.

“Very well,” said Arthur. “We’ll be at port in two days. I  _ should  _ put you in the brig until I collect your ransom, but I’d like to have something beautiful to admire, so I suppose I’ll be leaving you in here with me. In chains, most likely. Or-- better yet-- a soft silk collar, so there won’t leave marks on your lovely pale skin.”

He playfully nudged the tip of the sword against Kiku’s throat, under his adam’s apple, indicating where he’d be collared.

“Unless you have any objections?” asked Arthur.

Kiku turned his chin away.

“Wonderful,” said Arthur with a laugh. He replaced the sword on the rack and walked towards the exit. 

There was a rustle behind him, of Kiku shifting under the blanket. A tense, resentful silence formed in the air. Arthur had stirred something in him, something to change his manner from confident to relenting. Arthur could feel Kiku’s eyes on his back, trailing his movements towards the door.

“Wait,” said Kiku.

Arthur smirked, but did not wait.

Kiku raised his voice marginally to call after him again, more angrily this time. 

Arthur calmly shut and locked the door. Behind it, he heard Kiku patter over and bang his palm against it. 

“Damn you, how dare you threaten me,” he said. The sound was muffled by the wood between them, but his desperation was more than audible.

Arthur made sure Kiku could hear him walking away, his boots thudding down the hall. 

The banging grew louder, Kiku’s cries more urgent, until it reached a point that satisfied Arthur. He returned shortly, unlocking and flinging open the door.

Kiku stumbled back, furious and flustered. The skin of his knuckles was reddened from hitting the door. Before Kiku could speak another word, Arthur grabbed him around the neck and pushed him against the wall. 

“Now that I know you know how to beg, let's stop fucking around and make a deal,” said Arthur. “You’re going to beg me to screw you, or I’ll sell your swords and you’ll be a disappointment to your family.”

“You bastard,” said Kiku.

“Forsaking your noble family pride over a little personal indignity that no one but you will know about? You’re prideful, but not that selfish.”

“You’ll regret this.”

“I’ll make you regret fighting back earlier,” said Arthur. “If you had been obedient and let me have my way then, you wouldn’t have to beg for my cock now. Because now, I'm taking the opportunity to make this as intimate and pleasurable as possible. As your side of the bargain, you won’t only be made to lie quietly and take it. You’ll be an active participant, politely and eagerly asking for everything I tell you to. And I will see to it that you enjoy yourself  _ thoroughly _ .” 

Arthur leant forward to kiss him, but Kiku turned away and clenched his jaw.

“I will not lie with a pirate.”

“I’m not just a pirate. Respect the distinction between me and the other filthy scoundrels aboard this ship, and refer to me as Captain.”

“You’re as filthy as the rest _. _ ”

“Maybe so. But your property is at stake, so I suggest you do as I say regardless.”

Kiku’s eyes flicked over him, measuring the consequences. Understanding he was trapped. The raw hatred in his expression at the realization that he would be forced to relent filled Arthur with powerful excitement.

“ _ Fine _ ,” said Kiku, spitting out the word like it was something rotten.

A triumphant grin slid across Arthur’s face. “ _ Fine _ , what?”

“...Captain,” said Kiku. The word was half-swallowed in a gasp as Arthur kissed his mouth open. 

  
  


On Arthur’s request, they moved over to the bed.

“Open your cover, slowly. Show me your body,” said Arthur. 

Kiku was reluctantly compliant, responding as Arthur demanded. In an almost coy manner, he opened one side, then the other, letting the blanket slide to the floor.

“Aren’t you going to invite me to touch you?” asked Arthur, when Kiku stood silently, glaring at him. 

“I have nothing to say to a pirate who has amorous congress with other men.”

This made Arthur pause for a moment. 

“ _ Amorous congress.  _ What a  _ polite  _ way of putting it.”

“Not everyone feels the necessity to speak like a boor.”

“So you say. But while you’re with me, I expect you’ll let slip some dirty words without noticing.”

Arthur went in to kiss him again. Kiku denied him, briefly turning his face away from Arthur’s greedy mouth. “I expect you’ll be disappointed,” he said.

Arthur shoved him onto the bed and kneeled over him. 

Sparks of hostility burned in Kiku’s eyes, but his skin had flushed a soft pink. Arthur gazed down at his captive beneath him, forced into a submissive position, and wondered where he would start. His eyes fell on Kiku’s bare chest, which was gently rising and falling.

“Your nipples are like pinpricks,” said Arthur. “Are you still cold?”

Kiku gave him a bitter look. 

Arthur slunk onto him, teasing his earlobe with his breath. “I'll suck on them if you ask politely.”

Kiku shivered, pushing his mouth away. “There's no way to ask such a thing politely.”

“I’ll help you,” said Arthur. “Instead of prefacing “suck on them” with ‘bastard’, you use ‘please’.”

“ _ Please _ ,” said Kiku, in barely less than a snarl. “Suck on--”

“Oh, no,” purred Arthur. “You’re nobility. I know you can show more deference than that. Speak to me like you’d speak to a superior, or an honored guest. With all the humble, gracious decorum you can muster.”

Kiku looked personally offended that he was being asked to be polite, which Arthur thought was hilariously ironic. He watched the conflict on Kiku’s face, relishing the shame and embarrassment that flickered over his features as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that he would  _ have  _ to please Arthur, in order to uphold his end of the bargain.

Kiku’s throat quivered, his eyebrows drew together, and his voice was a whisper, but he finally complied.

“Please… warm them up with your mouth,” he said.

“What!?” cackled Arthur. “Using cute euphemisms, no less! To think there’s a demure princess hiding behind your cold exterior.”

Without a second of hesitation, Kiku reared up and struck him across the mouth, hard enough that Arthur was stunned for a moment. His lower lip throbbed like it had been split. He licked it. Excitement coursed through him at the taste of copper, at the pain of pressing the forming bruise with his tongue and knowing Kiku had made it. 

“You make this so difficult,” said Arthur, licking his lip again. “But your disobedience turns me on, so by all means, keep at it.” 

“I won't do this anymore,” said Kiku, moving out from under him. Arthur pinned his legs, momentarily trapping him.

“If I touch you gently, you’ll enjoy it.”

“Never,” said Kiku.

Arthur looked at Kiku’s face, completely taken in a blush; his trembling shoulders, and defiant expression, and realized that it had been a while since he had had this much fun.

He could go all night like this, fighting for what he wanted.

And something told him Kiku could too. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just sex, bc this fic kinda demanded it.

Kiku was hesitant to turn his back to him.

At Arthur’s demand, he did so, but kept his eyes trained over his shoulder, tense in all his limbs as he stared him down.

“You can relax,” said Arthur, sliding a hand around Kiku’s throat from behind, and tilting his head back to kiss him. Kiku wrinkled his nose as their lips pressed together. Arthur withdrew marginally, nuzzling Kiku’s earlobe with the tip of his nose; turning against the soft skin to whisper, “I’m only going to leave you in exquisite agony.”

Kiku’s throat quivered beneath his hand; in rage or apprehension, Arthur didn’t care to guess.

Whatever Kiku was feeling, he’d certainly be more accommodating to Arthur’s purposes if his own needs were attended to first. What Kiku  _ needed  _ was a good screwing, ending in an orgasm that would leave him docile enough to submit to whatever Arthur wanted of him afterwards.

Arthur, of course, was convinced of this, but to also convince Kiku he needed such a thing would take a bit of persuasion.

Arthur left Kiku for a moment to fetch a tiny bottle from a drawer in his desk. He came back over, with the bottle held lengthwise between his thumb and forefinger. He tilted it gently, and the thick liquid within lapped the sides.

Kiku’s eyes narrowed in distrust. “What is that?”

“Oil,” said Arthur. 

He uncorked it, and dripped it from the base of Kiku’s spine. The oil trailed in a slick line into his crevice. 

“Lay on your front,” demanded Arthur, tossing the bottle aside. 

Kiku glared, with a clear intent to defy him.

So, Arthur seized him by the knot of his neatly tied hair and pushed him face down over the side of the bed.

Being forcefully held down did not agree with Kiku whatsoever (though it  _ did  _ suit the spoiled brat), and he made his discomfort abundantly clear, lashing out at Arthur; snarling at him to stop pulling his hair. 

Laid out on his belly, Kiku’s options of attack were severely limited, and not a single one of his blows connected with their intended target. His attempt at violence was really very cute in its ineffectiveness, and had Arthur wishing he had had the foresight to pin Kiku like this during their initial encounter.

While Kiku wasted his energy struggling, Arthur went right for his hole. Upon being prodded in an uncomfortable place, Kiku’s hand shot down and covered his rear, stubbornly blocking access. Arthur batted his hand aside and spread him. 

His hole was quivering and flushed, and the look of the oil shining wetly on it was tantalizing.

Arthur pressed his index finger against it, rubbing in circles to distribute the oil evenly, trying to feel the shape of the entrance, but Kiku kept moving his hips away.

“No! Not there!” he protested, staring over his shoulder with a wide-eyed look of surprise, as if he hadn't expected that this was what Arthur had been planning to do with him all along. 

Arthur slid his finger inside, and Kiku’s reaction was instantaneous: a shock up the spine, and a choked-off yelp at the intrusion. Wanting to hear that sound again, Arthur crooked and rubbed his forefinger against his inner wall. What he got in response was a quiver; a shake of the hips.

“Why, you...” Kiku said, with his teeth clenched. “Take that out.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” said Arthur. He sunk his finger in entirely, and gripped Kiku’s ass around it. 

He held him from both ends, and Kiku couldn’t move either forward or back without meeting resistance. One side was painful, one soon-to-be pleasurable; both equally distasteful. Kiku growled in the back of his throat when he realized he was trapped. 

His position was far from unpleasant, though, considering what Arthur was about to do to him.

 

Arthur considered himself good with his hands, and it quickly became evident that Kiku did too, as his shoulders stiffened when Arthur ground his finger especially roughly into him. Even with one finger, when he drew the tip along Kiku’s wall, he kept getting a reaction. So he gave him two, continuing the warm, slick little movements. 

Impatient to get a strong reaction from Kiku, he worked him roughly, with violent hammering of his fingers against his delicate spot, in precise, impetuous jabs until he could hear the sound of skin being beaten against skin. Below him, Kiku had started to behave, and his struggling had lessened.

“You’re so cooperative with something up your ass,” commented Arthur, even though Kiku was lost to do anything useful under such a condition, and having his hair pulled all the while. “Why is that? Do you fancy having your hole stirred up?” 

As expected, Kiku remained petulantly silent, and Arthur couldn't see his expression, but he imagined it was a scowl. 

“Don’t ignore me,” demanded Arthur, yanking Kiku backwards by his hair and sinking his teeth into his throat, sucking on the skin.

Kiku responded with his first noise of the night-- a thin whimper-- signaling to Arthur to pull his fingers out and release his hair at once, so Kiku plopped forward over the bed into a prone position.

Kiku was gasping, rigid. He remained as Arthur left him, probably shocked that he had made a noise.

“You  _ are  _ enjoying it,” said Arthur. 

“I’m not,” Kiku exclaimed, so indignantly that Arthur was compelled to check, just to make sure. 

Kiku sensed what he was about to do, and snapped his legs closed, but Arthur was faster.

He thrust his hand between Kiku’s legs and grabbed his cock. Despite all his protesting, Kiku was clearly aroused. As he lay with his pelvis pressed firmly up against the edge of the bed, his untouched cock had been hardening gradually, and Arthur could perfectly feel the heat and the shape of it as Kiku shifted self-consciously in his grasp. It was stiff, and dribbled a river of sticky hot fluid over Arthur's knuckles when he gave it an encouraging tug. Kiku squirmed harder.

“Well, well,” said Arthur. 

Kiku’s eyebrows were furrowed slightly, his mouth was tight, his whole expression stubborn indifference. If not for his erection, Arthur wouldn't know he was feeling anything. 

“You like being fondled here?” asked Arthur.

Kiku sighed, dropping his forehead to the bedcover.  

“And here?” asked Arthur, sliding a third finger in alongside the first two, stroking him inside and out; watching Kiku’s face crumple in helpless arousal.

Like a switch had been flipped, Kiku was responding enthusiastically to the simple wiggling of his fingers. As Arthur touched him, he received such an intense reaction that he wondered if Kiku had, perhaps, neglected to share a secret predilection for being fondled in such a place.

“You’re sensitive in strange places, for a man who doesn’t like cock,” Arthur commented, expecting an elbow to the face.

“Just  _ finish _ ,” was Kiku’s mortified plea. 

“Finish you, you mean?” asked Arthur. He removed his hand from Kiku’s cock and licked the essence from his fingers. “If you've stopped fighting me, you must be in more distress than I thought.”

 

Arthur turned him on his back and kissed him, and Kiku didn’t resist this time. He couldn’t even attempt to bite him, when he was gasping too hard from the fingering to even close his mouth.

Arthur slid his tongue in, and Kiku messily wrapped his lips around it, an involuntary reaction to being pleasured.

Even after Arthur chuckled and kissed him more deeply, alerting Kiku to his enthusiastic reaction, Kiku didn’t pull away. His shaky breath was warm and relenting as he let Arthur continue, more wary of his responses now.

Arthur took advantage of Kiku being occupied by the kissing, and slid his cock inside, alongside his fingers.

Kiku’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and he began to protest. Arthur screwed himself in deeper, filling him with the full length of his shaft, before he removed his fingers.

“Don’t--” Kiku started, before Arthur gave his hair a warning tug. 

“Settle down. It’s like having your cock rubbed from inside. But  _ better, _ ” he explained.

He thrusted, right against a place that made Kiku’s hips jerk. He thrust again, harder. Again, and Kiku gasped.

“You squeeze me when I press here,” said Arthur, rolling his hips into him. “You like having me inside you?”

Kiku bit his lip. He was making  _ real  _ noises now; gasps and uncertain whimpers.

Arthur’s pulling on his hair had left it a mess again; half-undone and tangled. Strands stuck to his lips, and to his sweaty forehead and shoulders, trailing sensually over his neck.

 

As much as Arthur would have enjoyed continuing this way until they both finished, he had something more fun in mind. Now that Kiku was behaving, it would be a good time to make him take control of his own pleasure. 

“Up,” instructed Arthur, as he abruptly pulled out of Kiku. He lay on his back on the bed and gestured for Kiku to straddle his hips. 

Hesitantly, Kiku put his leg over Arthur’s waist and raised himself so he was squatting over his cock.

“Go on,” said Arthur. “You know what to do.”

“This is… I can’t… ” Kiku babbled, as he realized what he was being asked to do. His blush had consumed his skin down to his chest.

“You’ve ridden a horse before, haven’t you?” asked Arthur. 

If possible, Kiku’s embarrassment only intensified. His mouth shrunk to a tiny, quivering line, and he glared with intense distrust at the headboard, once again not sparing Arthur the privilege of eye contact.

“This is different,” he whispered decisively.

Arthur took him by the hips and pushed them from side to side. 

“Bounce your arse, and swing your hips like you’re in a trot. Ride me.”

Kiku gently swung his hips, rolling them forward and bouncing off Arthur’s cock. He managed four tentative rotations of his hips on his own, before he stopped, and clapped his hands over his face. 

“Don’t hide,” demanded Arthur. “Look at me while you fuck yourself.”

When Kiku refused to do either, Arthur kept a hold on his hips, pounding his cock up into him as Kiku hovered indecisively in place, distressfully keeping his face concealed. Thin moans slipped between his fingers, as Arthur fucked in deep. 

“Uh— eh—” said Kiku haltingly, his voice stilted from the force of the thrusts. “Don’t— so much—!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It feels  _ s-strange, _ ” moaned Kiku. 

“Oh,  _ does _ it?” purred Arthur. He withdrew, to Kiku’s nervous and vague begging, to just past the entrance. He thrust shallowly, rubbing and rubbing right at the place where the urge was strongest.

In a moment of panicked decisiveness, Kiku brought his hands away from his face to support himself as he lifted his rear halfway off Arthur’s cock, before Arthur caught his hips and held him in place. Kiku was forced to relent, squatting tenuously on shaking legs, looking like he was deciding if it was wise to sink down again.

Arthur regarded him with no little amusement.

“You’re making  _ such  _ a fuss. Does it hurt?” he asked.

Kiku’s face was a mask of worry, but he wasn't in pain. He had a faraway look in his eyes, indicating he was trying to contend with something beyond his control.

Arthur smiled wickedly, and kept going.

Kiku was clearly at the peak of his tolerance. His teeth were grit, his fingers scrabbling on Arthur’s sides, undulating worriedly; like grabbing something would help to distract him. 

Arthur laughed at him; a low, taunting chuckle, mocking the futility of Kiku efforts to fight off an orgasm.

“I know you can't take anymore. You're swooning. You have such a weary expression. Just let it happen.”

“I won’t. I hate it,” Kiku protested, his tone wavering. 

His eyes were shut tightly, his damp face reddened, his head lolled back in a parody of a swoon. He was squirming wholeheartedly, grinding his bare knees against the bedspread, trying to lift himself up and maneuver Arthur’s cock into a less stimulating position. 

But Arthur wouldn't allow it. He fucked him slowly, too slow to completely satisfy him; keeping him in blissful agony as far as pleasure went. 

He could see the hunger in Kiku’s distraught expression; the eagerness as he began to lose himself in the waves of pleasure that rocked through him, teasing; keeping him just on the border of rapture. 

“I can’t,” Kiku whispered, dragging more insistently at Arthur’s shirt.

He wasn’t lying. With a few rapid thrusts from Arthur, his eyebrows twitched upward, his eyes unfocused, and he emitted a whimper; a word in his own language. 

He arched his rear away from Arthur’s cock, but he'd already been brought to his peak. And despite himself, out of mindless lust, he sunk back down, rocking his hips to ride it out, letting the head press him there again and again to complete the orgasm so it wouldn't end prematurely. 

It was that fucking that finished him properly. He gasped out his pleasure, his head thrown back and his mouth struck open wide, his body shaking and clenching around Arthur. 

He finished, slumping forward with a gasp of relief; all the energy gone from his limbs. 

Arthur soaked up this sight greedily, fucking and fucking him without restraint, until he was sure Kiku was entirely wrung out. 

Before Kiku could offer an excuse for his immodest display, Arthur lifted his chin up to get a better look at his captive’s fucked-out expression. Kiku’s dark eyes were teary with excitement, and a warm little crooked smile twitched across his face. It was all completely involuntary, because there was no chance someone as restrained as Kiku would voluntarily make such a crude expression of pleasure. 

Arthur thumbed the side of Kiku’s reddened cheek affectionately. 

“You do look  _ so  _ pleased with yourself,” he teased. “What was all that defiance worth, if you were only going to shake your hips for more at the end of it?” 

 

Kiku scowled again; at least, as much as he could properly move his face into the appropriate expression of irritation, all while trying to keep his protruding tongue in his mouth. The effect was an adorable pout, which was not nearly as intimidating as Kiku probably hoped it was.

But his cute, impotent anger was making Arthur’s cock throb. Kiku’s softly glowing skin, his content air as he sat with Arthur’s cock inside him, offered a side of his personality to Arthur that had gone deliciously unexplored.

“Enough,” said Kiku, as Arthur continued to thrust. 

“I haven’t finished, love.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want anymore.”

But he did. With one proper orgasm, Kiku’s dignified tastes had dissolved into something infinitely less discerning. He had been fucked by a pirate to a state of complete undoing, and he had no energy to protest any more. 

Now weak and starry-eyed with arousal, he relented breathlessly as Arthur rolled him onto his back, and finished what he had started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, not more pirates… this fic did not need another chapter.  
> I’m justifying this as a break from my fics I should be writing instead. 
> 
> Warning: this is somehow even more dirty than the last chapter. Pirate Arthur is my excuse to write very, very crude dialogue. ♡
> 
> Also, historical accuracy? I don’t know her.
> 
> What else…
> 
> A chashaku is a wooden implement to scoop matcha.
> 
> Yoshiwara was a popular red light district in Edo/Tokyo.
> 
> I think that’s all.

_ Edo, Japan,  _ _ One year later… _

 

Kiku nearly dropped the tea tray when he saw the guest he was to be serving.

That familiar smirk, betraying vulgar interest, stretched across  _ that man’s  _ face, as he likewise remembered his server.

The coy shape of his lips, however, declared that this meeting was no accident; no simple coincidence. Kiku trembled with disgust. 

_ That  _ man, who he had hoped never to encounter again, whose name he refused to speak.  _ That  _ was what he was about to serve.

“My family,” Kiku said, firmly, “Does not invite pirates into our home, to do dealings.  Excuse me, while I remedy this mistake.”

“Pirates!” exclaimed his disgusting guest, “I’m afraid you have it wrong, love. I’m merely a Dutch privateer, with cargo to sell to the master of this honorable household.”

“You are not Dutch.”

“Oh, but I am! I happen to have a Dutch ship, after all, and Dutch goods that I…  _ encountered _ on my way here.”

“Get out.”

“Now, now. Settle down. I’m sure your father won’t be very happy if this trade deal goes badly on account of his rude son.”

Arthur extended his hand, gesturing at the low table between them. His eyes glinted with mirth.

“Take a seat. Entertain me.”

Kiku glared at him, refusing to move.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure whatever tea you make will be delicious.”

The “delicious” rolled off his tongue lewdly, and it took every bit of Kiku’s will not to leave him in the room and burn it down with him. 

Instead, he closed his eyes and took a long, steadying breath. It helped a bit to clear his head of unsavory things, but it was unsatisfying, when it was this  _ room  _ that truly needed to be divested of the filth inhabiting it. 

Kiku sunk on his knees to the tatami, setting down the tray with a jarring  _ clack  _ than he would never allow in polite company. The cups rattled.

“Ah, so this is the famous Japanese tea ceremony,” mused Arthur, rubbing his chin, while looking like he didn’t expect much.

As for the tea, Kiku went through the motions of making it--the measuring, the pouring of hot water, the whisking-- without thought. Any elegance or respect for the art was muffled beneath his fury.

He stirred and stirred, until he had the presence of mind to glance down at his work, only to realize it was ruined. He’d whisked the matcha into a pile of froth, so it was overflowing from the bowl.

“Oh,” he murmured, at the bubbles oozing over the rim.

Arthur stretched out sideways on the tatami, and hummed disapprovingly, barely concealing his smirk. 

“If you put as much effort into making tea as acting like an indignant princess, you wouldn’t have made such a mistake,” he said.

“Don’t speak of things you know nothing about,” hissed Kiku bitterly, his face coloring. He took up a cloth from the tray and wiped the mess. 

“Who said I know nothing about this? I enjoyed a few cups of tea before I got here,” said Arthur. “Though I must say, the prostitutes in Yoshiwara are far more artful when they make it.  _ And _ they let me fuck them afterwards.”

“ _ My home  _ is a respectable place, and I do not provide such a service.”

“That’s a shame, because you certainly fuck better than you make tea.”

“You distracted me,” said Kiku, ignoring the comment, even as heat spread across his cheeks. “Be silent, while I remake it.”

This time, he went slowly, his attitude now tempered by the shame that burned his face. Although his guest was intolerable, that was no reason to make tea improperly. 

He gently poured water to heat the bowl, swirled it, poured it out, wiped the bowl dry, and turned it towards his guest, before setting it down.

As he took the first chashaku of powder, Arthur yawned loudly.

Kiku’s nerves crackled. He spared a furious glance up at his guest, who was watching boredly, with his legs sprawled.

Glancing back down, Kiku continued, adding the powder.

Arthur yawned loudly, again.

“Be quiet,” snapped Kiku, tapping matcha off the chashaku so hard, he almost upended the bowl. “If you insist upon staying here, the least you could do is watch the ceremony.”

“I’d rather watch you take your clothes off,” said Arthur.

Kiku’s spine bristled.

“As I said, the  _ ceremony--” _

“Take it off,” Arthur purred. “Give me a  _ real  _ show. Let me see your beautiful, delicate fingers  _ ceremonially  _ undoing each layer.”

Kiku ignored him, adding a second scoop of matcha. 

“It’d be much more entertaining if you did this all naked,” said Arthur. 

Kiku’s anger began to condense to a point, fighting for dominance with the different, equally furious heat collecting in his lower back at the pirate’s smooth tone.

“Why are you blushing?” asked Arthur. “Do you like the thought of serving me naked? With nothing but the table between us, and the steam from the tea to hide your body?”

“You’re excessively vulgar.”

“You’re raring for a fuck.”

“ _ Please,”  _ demanded Kiku, lifting a ladle of hot water from the kettle, and barely restraining the urge to throw it in his face. “Shut up.”

“Give me a kiss. At the least, it’ll coax fond memories of our sex that you loved so much.”

“I was forced to it.”

Arthur laughed in disbelief. “You needed no urging to become a slut, once you’d had a proper fucking. You fell splayed upon my bed and gave it up for hours. And you’ll do it again.”

Hot water slopped over the edge of the bowl, as Kiku emptied the ladle a bit too forcefully. 

“It was vile,” he asserted, taking the cloth and dabbing the spill. 

The pirate’s eyes narrowed, in clear, smug disagreement. 

“This is why I chased you,” he said. “You’re delectable. So beautiful and proud. Just makes it more exciting, knowing this will end with me screwing you senseless over this table. With your lily white legs over your head, whining in between thrusts. Just like the first time. You remember how it was, don’t you?”

The pirate’s voice took on a mocking intonation, imitating Kiku: “Oh,  _ yes,  _ rub  _ there _ , give me your cock,  _ screw  _ me...”

Kiku threw down the soaked cloth.

“I will not endure this,” he snarled, bumping the underside of the table as he stood, in his haste to get away, spilling tea all over the surface. 

Arthur lunged, thrusting his hand over the table and catching him by the arm. 

In his surprise, Kiku did not immediately pull away, and the moment of hesitation cost him his escape. With one smooth motion of Arthur’s arm, he was thrown to the floor.

Arthur was on him, tearing open the flaps of his kimono, so they parted up to his waist.

Regaining his sense, Kiku struck him in the jaw, so Arthur pinned his arms down, and put his mouth on his neck. Then, on his earlobe, and then his chest, reaching up and grabbing the collar of the kimono, tearing it off his shoulders.

In seconds, Kiku is unclothed, but unwilling to cry for help, lest someone come in and see him like  _ this _ , bare to the waist and writhing beneath his guest.

“Oh,” murmurs Arthur, sliding his fingers along the edges of the kimono panels at his chest, parting them more. “I like this one much better than the trousers you were wearing back then. Easy to take off.”

Arthur holds down his arms and kisses his belly, and his undulating chest, sucking each of his nipples, while Kiku pales in distress.

“Please, don’t… Not here...” he pleads, turning his head towards the rice paper panels that inadequately separate them from the rest of the manor. 

“You gave up the fight quickly, this time,” muses Arthur. “How cute. You missed me, didn’t you?”

Kiku trembles with embarrassment, and for once, Arthur seems to take pity on him.

“I’ve been a terrible guest. Let me do something for you, to make up for my rudeness.”

Before Kiku can think to protest, their positions are reversed. Kiku is dragged by the ankle so his bottom is in Arthur’s face, and Arthur flips his robe up. He pulls his loincloth aside and starts licking his hole.

He’s holding him by the hips, and Kiku’s back is arched painfully, as he’s lying face down— to his horror—between Arthur’s legs. Arthur has an erection, and it’s pressing his cheek. His heart thuds in fascinated disgust.

Behind him, Arthur is relentless.

Each hot, generous lick makes Kiku perk more. The arousal almost tickles, like an itch he can’t relieve, and it sweeps him over, and over, until his legs are shaking. 

The very tip of his tongue catches the rim and wriggles inside, and Kiku practically bites through his lip so he doesn’t cry out in filthy, heated excitement. He shudders and twitches, trying to suppress the feeling, but it’s irrepressible. He gasps, from holding the cry in for so long, and his mouth opens against Arthur’s erection.

Arthur feels it, evidently, because his cock twitches. He pauses his heavenly licking only long enough to demand he suck him off.

Kiku has never sucked off a man before, and he certainly doesn’t want to put his mouth anywhere near Arthur’s cock, but the tongue lapping at his ass makes him willing in ways he wouldn’t be otherwise.

With unsteady fingers, he unlaces Arthur’s trousers and releases his cock.

It springs out, slapping against his cheek, and he scowls. 

_ Bite it off, bite it off, bite it off,  _ whirls aggressively in his head, and aggressively, he wraps his lips around the cock. His teeth scrape it, but he can’t bring them together. He lacks the resolve; flown away with his sense, as Arthur slides two fingers up his ass.

They rub him deeper than his tongue, and he’s lost, in seconds, drooling over the cock in his mouth. 

He realizes fully now: he has a cock in his mouth. He has  _ his  _ cock in his mouth, this filthy pirate.

It’s so humiliating he wants to die, but he’s burning hot.

It feels bigger in his mouth than it looks, and for some unfathomable reason, this excites him. 

When he gathers the courage to lick, the taste isn’t good, but the pulsing heat against his lips, the way it feels against his tongue, thick and hard, overwhelms his senses.

Sweat trickles over his temple, as he tightens his lips and sucks. 

“Up and down,” says Arthur, his voice muffled, as his tongue joins his fingers in pleasuring him. “Fuck your mouth with it.”

Kiku sucks and gulps down the thin, hot liquid that has spilled into his mouth. 

His mouth is watering, and that helps when he slides the cock further in. 

It goes further, deeper, like the fingers inside him, until he has his cheek pressed against Arthur’s groin, and the cock in his mouth to the root.

A needling pain erupts from his own thigh, followed by a wet caress of lips. He’s being bitten, and as savage and degenerate as it is, the action fires him up. Each hot stab of teeth into that delicate area; as his skin is sucked and bruised, is a taunt by Arthur to sink to his level.

And Kiku does, as he digs his nails into Arthur’s bare hips, clawing red, symmetrical trails into his skin.

A reminder that he won’t be claimed without a fight. Now not, or ever.

But those fingers are driving him mad, making every insult the pirate dared speak to him seem like nothing but a minute detail, compared to the pleasure he’s taking. 

They stroke him, in and out, in pace with Arthur’s mouth, that has moved lower to envelop his cock.

He fights the pleasure, fights the demanding need to swing his hips and drive the fingers deeper. 

The pirate doesn’t need to know that he’d become used to pleasuring himself the same way. 

More than used to— addicted. 

Because nothing, nothing compared to the sensation of being brought to a trembling climax over and over, in the span of minutes.

Because, as much as he wished to deny it, there had been a time when Arthur had had his way with him, and Kiku had been reduced to a trembling, begging heap from the amount of times he’d finished from having only his cock rubbing inside. 

The crude utterances, the shameful things he had begged for in that time were still impressed on his memory; a filthy stamp of dishonor.

Afterward, he had felt cheated. Manipulated. That sort of wild, unbounded pleasure was not the deal he had agreed upon. He had only agreed to give up his body, but the pirate seemed to have taken his sense too, as the heat of arousal lingered for long after he had returned home. And he had craved it, to be  _ had  _ that same way, and sought it out for himself under his futon cover, with his fingers as a poor replacement. And every time he did it, he was overcome with shame.

And now. Being forced to relive such an appalling, cruel, and merciless attack on his dignity… he could hardly contain his fury. 

Containment was impossible when he was entered forcefully, in one thrust, in a searing hot burst that filled him to his deepest place. 

“No,” he exclaimed. “Not that.” 

His startled “ _ iya”  _ quavered, hanging in the air with his trembling breaths. 

He said it again, at the time of the next thrust, plunging into him, but his head was so hazy, the word lost all intensity. 

The next time he said it, he couldn’t stop saying it, and it sounded like “ _ ja”  _ this time, every time, over and over as he was fucked.

From behind. That’s how the pirate was doing him, so his cock could reach further. 

The cock inside him did not glide as smoothly as it had when they had the assistance of the oil, but it was spine-tingling nonetheless; the roughness and violence of being stuffed, harder and harder until he moaned in earnest. 

Arthur was groaning as well, adding his voice to the carnal duet that resounded beyond every thin, wood and paper door in the manor.

Leaning back into Arthur's thrusts, Kiku let himself be taken over by pleasure.

——-

The trade had gone well, all things considered. 

His father had gotten his goods, and Kiku had gotten his orgasm. 

At least, Kiku thought, those were two positive things that helped counterbalance the shame brought about by the muffled giggles of the servant girls who had been cleaning outside the room. 

As for the shame brought about by  _ him _ … that was a bit more complicated.

Watching the white sails of the ship recede into the distance, Kiku was instead filled with an implacable longing. 

He wondered about the amount of tea he would make for guests in the next month; the ceremony uninterrupted and monotonous in its perfection. How many nights would he lay in his futon, aching for something too far away to have.

With a sigh, he returned inside, kneeling before his half-finished calligraphy. He picked up his brush and added one more, uninspired swipe of ink to a character.

How dull his life would be, until the pirate returned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oy these verb tenses…  
>  I decided to switch to present progressive halfway through and then back to regular third person, but I can’t be bothered to change it bc I’ve already wasted too much time on this.


End file.
